


Skin to Skin

by thelonboots



Category: Hat Films - Fandom, The Yogscast
Genre: Garbage Court - Freeform, M/M, UMY Secret Santa 2015
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 07:01:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5530259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelonboots/pseuds/thelonboots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trott and Sips have a lazy winter afternoon in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Skin to Skin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Crispfencer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crispfencer/gifts).



> This if for the UMY Secret Santa for crispfencer, hope you like it. Happy Holidays!

Trott was curled up in the black leather recliner under a thin knit blanket. He had found the blanket collecting dust at the back of Sips’ hall closet. The chair was well worn, vaguely lopsided, and creaked at the slightest movement. Trott was doing his best to be still. The apartment was quiet, faint sounds of traffic filtered in from the outside world but that could not be helped. In one hand he cradled a mug of cooling black tea with rum against hit chest, in the other was his phone. He kept the phone angled away from the midday sunlight as he skimmed through his email. Trott always had an overly full inbox after the neglect during midwinter festivities. This year his inbox was in more of an uproar than usual considering the unexpected deviation in the ritual. The King of Misrule lived.

The king was still alive, sleeping comfortably just down the hall. Sips was not twenty feet away and Trott still felt a prickle of worry at the back of his head. It was only the two of them in the apartment. Smith had left mentioning an extended hunting trip, hungry after missing what was usually his favorite meal of the year. Trott had sent Ross to the roof of the squat apartment building as a show of force. Hopefully the gargoyle would get to work off some of his restive energy as well act as sentry. This left Trott as the second line of defense in the apartment. He had a pair of knives strapped at his sides.  

With a sigh, Trott tossed his phone away. The rest of the messages could wait. They were either from those too important to deal with over email or not important enough to warrant a personal response. Trott wanted to be annoyed at the nerve in some of the more impertinent messages, but it took nerve to be a part of the Garbage Court in the first place. So really, he could only blame himself for the state of his email.

Trott stared out over the snowy street and took a long sip of tea. There was no precedent for this. He felt caught between thrill and caution. The audacity of what they had done agreed with him but this was flying in the face of tradition far more than they had previously dared. His thoughts were going in circles but he could not be bothered to break out of his own souring mood.

A warm hand landed on his shoulder. Instinctively Trott moved for the knives strapped at his sides, before he registered that it was Sips. Trott repressed a wince, once again reminded of the fragility of a mortal king.  Sips gave no indication that he realized how close Trott had been to disemboweling him on the spot.

“Morning, Trott.” Sips said with a lazy smile. He plucked the mug from Trott’s hand and took a drink. He made a pleased noise and stole another swallow before returning the mug to Trott.

“Afternoon now, sleep well?”

“Like a babby. I suppose that makes you my babysitter for today, eh?”

“Well considering I’m not getting paid…” Sips chuckled.

“Maybe we can work something out later.” Sips said as he leaned against the chair. The chair gave a faint creak and then there was silence. Sips simply stared at Trott. Trott stared back, unsure what Sips was thinking. He had no idea what Sips wanted. Sips broke the quiet. “I just can’t work it out so I gotta ask, Trott. What are you?”

Trott shifted in the chair which responded with a loud squeak. The question was almost too nonchalant. Sips’ expression was affable enough, but Trott was unsure how he wanted to answer.

“Ross is straight forward enough, big golem-“

“Gargoyle” Trott corrected.

“-Gargoyle, of stone and pretty glass. Smiffy was easy-peasy to figure out when he rolled the window down and flashed those baby blues of his. But I can’t seem to pin you down.”

Trott flashed Sips a grin that was all teeth. He could not muster the usual cool hostility that went along with it, and hoped Sips had not noticed. “What, not even a theory?”

“Well I’ll admit, Trott, there was a couple days I thought you were a changeling. But, that’s not your style. Not to mention those knives of yours are something else.” Trott’s hand drifted to brush the knives in question. “When I first saw you I thought you might be human but that was obviously wrong pretty fast.” Sips shrugged. Trott supposed there was no reason to put it off longer.

“Ever heard of a selkie, mate?”

“Sure, hasn’t everyone seen The Secret of Roan Inish? You’re a seal then?”

“Walrus.”

“Huh” Sips seemed considering. “So you’ve got a pelt then.”

“Ye-es.”

“Well that would have made guessing easier.” Then Trott felt foolish. It was simpler to stow his skin away during the Festival of Misrule, but continuing to hide it after Sips was established as a permanent king was instinct. It went along the lines of the lessons drilled into his head from childhood. The kind of lessons he was taking great pains to unlearn 

Trott pushed himself out of the armchair ignoring the resulting ruckus. He dropped the ratty blanket and stalked over to the hall closet, Sips trailing behind. Trott opened the closet door with more force than strictly necessary. On the high shelf Trott pushed aside a basket of winter gear and a cardboard box marked ‘MISC.’ in sharpie. On his tip-toes, Trott’s hand brushed familiar soft, pebbled skin and yanked. The skin was heavy and did not come easily. Holding it, Trott felt the familiar mixed knot of resentment and security in his chest. He took a moment to examine it, Trott could see stains as well as places where the skin was drying and cracking at the edges.

“Here.” Trott shoved the skin at Sips and waited for judgement. Sips unfolded the skin and held it out in front of him giving it a slight shake. Trott crossed his arms in front of himself. His legs were tense.

“This is heavy duty, Trott. You really need all of this? There’s so much.”

“It’s what I have.”

“Well it sure is a beauty. Very sexy.” Sips said as he stepped forward.

Trott rolled his eyes, making sure Sips saw. “I’m sure you say that to all the selkies.”

With a flourish Sips wrapped the skin around Trott’s shoulders, keeping a hold on it. Trott forced his hands to uncross and knees to unlock. It was easier to relax under the skin with the warmth of Sips’ body so near. Sips smiled down at him and Trott tried not to feel flustered.

Still holding the skin, Sips tugged Trott even closer. Trott met him halfway in a gentle kiss. He wrapped his arms around Sips’ waist, trying to press closer still, letting Sips hold the skin up. Sips tasted so overwhelmingly human, the blood that pulsed under his skin was tantalizing. But it was even better to kiss and be kissed, and to feel held. He felt a thrill at resisting his baser instincts in favor of this. His skin was much warmer than the blanket, and Sips was infinitely more interesting alive and responsive.

Sips began to back away, pulling Trott along. When they reached the armchair Sips kicked away the blanket. “Where did you find that old thing anyway, Trott?”

“Hall closet.” The look Sips was giving him was far too knowing.

Trott pushed Sips back into the chair, which made Sips yank on the skin resulting in Trott half-falling on top of him. The chair gave an ominous groan with the sudden movement and their combined weight. They both froze. Sips’ face pulled into an exaggerated look of surprise. After a beat it was clear the chair would hold and Trott could not hold back his mirth. He leaned his forehead against Sips’ shoulder, the skin shifted as Trott shook with laughter.

Sips adjusted his skin over the both of them as Trott got himself back under control. With one hand Sips’ reached up to idly stroke Trott’s hair, the other fished around until he found the remote.  Trott arranged himself so he could drape more comfortably over Sips and watch the television.

“You know what, Trott? I’m actually really fucking hungry.” Sips looked at Trott expectantly. Trott bit Sips shoulder, not particularly gently and gave a put upon groan. He stood up.

“I’ll get something, your majesty. Wouldn’t want to disturb you after a long morning of sleeping.”

“C’mon Trott, someone has to keep the chair warm.” Trott dragged the skin back over Sips, then made his way over to the tiny kitchen.

“Are you well suited to keeping seats warm, Sips?” Trott called back.

“You joke, but I’ll have you know that I was the number one bench warmer in high school for three years running.” Sips said, his voice full of pride.

Trott smiled to himself. Poking around the small kitchen he wasn’t able to turn up much. “How does peanut butter toast sound?” Trott asked, eyeing the cupboards contents skeptically.

“What, is there no Chinese left?”

Trott opened the refrigerator. There was one take out box on the top shelf, opening it Trott found that it was only half full of plain rice. He tossed it toward the garbage bin, and nearly missed.

“No. Ross must have eaten it this morning,” Trott said closing the refrigerator again.

“Geeze, well I guess toast will be fine. How about some more of that tea as well?”

Trott took out two mugs.  The box had exactly two teabags left, much to Trott’s satisfaction. He pulled out the peanut butter, placed bread in the toaster and flicked the electric kettle on. The faint sounds of the television made it into the kitchen as Trott pawed through the cupboards. He wasn’t able to find much of anything. The toaster dinged and Trott supposed toast and tea would have to do.

“What’s taking so long, Old Mother Hubbard?” Sips called as Trott emptied the last of the rum into their mugs of tea. Trott grabbed the mugs in one hand and the plate of toast in the other. He made his way back to Sips.

“I’m not Smith, Sips. I’m not baited that easily.” Trott handed the plate to Sips and placed the mugs on the side table next to the armchair. Trott lifted the skin, ignoring the complaints Sips made through a mouthful of toast and the creaks from the chair, and resumed his place curled up against Sips’ side.

Sips smiled down at Trott and wrapped an arm around him. “Looks like I managed to catch a selkie anyway” Sips said. Trott rolled his eyes at Sips half-heartedly. He made himself as comfortable as he could curled up at Sips’ side. Spending this much time warm, curled up under his skin was making him drowsy. As Sips finished the toast, Trott drifted off to sleep.


End file.
